


Business Made

by zombified419



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artist Ben, Awkward Flirting, First Meetings, Fluff and Humor, Hux is thirsty, M/M, Meet-Cute, Phasma Ships It, Poor Dopheld Mitaka, Rey Ships It, mechanic ben
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 17:54:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17411513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombified419/pseuds/zombified419
Summary: Ben winked at him, his lips spreading in a charming smirk. “It’s a date.”
    Then he was spinning on his heel and striding confidently towards the exit
    before Hux could respond, leaving his eyes trained on the sway of Ben’s
    dark hair, more wild and ethereal after being freed from the confines of a
    day-long braid, and a darkened red rag dangling from his back pocket. Hux
    watched Ben continue to walk towards a cliché sunset backdrop, through the
    exit and across the parking lot to a grey truck with the words ‘SOLO AND
    CREW’ printed in dark blue across the door and body. Hux had expected Ben
    to turn and look back towards the bank when he did, and Hux wondered if he
    could see him through the glass, or if he had even felt Hux’s eyes on him
    while he walked.“Holy shit, I have never seen two men so thirsty beforein my life.”Hux flinched at Phasma's voice; he had completely forgotten about time, let alone that he was
    not the only occupant in the bank.“Shut up,”he snapped.





	Business Made

* * *

Ben dragged himself from the driver seat of his Camaro with a groan. It was far too early for this - 9am usually wouldn’t be early, but he had spent the majority of his night working on a new piece while simultaneously listening to Rey rant about how oblivious Finn was, and how could Poe really be more obvious? It was exhausting listening to her friends’ awkward love life, and Ben really found the whole thing annoying. 

His night didn’t end once she left his apartment at midnight, but rather at 3am, when he shut and locked the garage he rented across from his apartment building. The space was large and surprisingly cheap (he believed Ms. Kanata cut him a deal she maybe wouldn’t have given others). He had planned to work well into the morning and then sleep the rest of the day away - his designs always came together better under darkness - but his phone had dinged around 2:50, which lead to him closing down not long after. 

That brought him here, at 9am on a Friday morning, practically falling out of his car and dragging his tired ass across a deserted parking lot towards a usually busy bank. Hopefully, if he was lucky, he may be able to make it in before the hordes of payroll-cashing workers and check-writing old ladies descended on the small building. 

9am really wasn’t all that early, but for a rather sleep-deprived Ben Solo, it most definitely was asking a lot. 

Ben sighed with relief when he saw a bank clerk unlocking the door from the inside as he trudged up the walkway. She smiled at him and pushed the door open, holding it for him as he picked up his pace to meet her. 

“Good morning, sir,” she greeted. “Welcome to First Order National. Are you a new client?” 

Ben shook his head, quirking what he hoped was a rather believable smile. “No, I’m ah, here to run a deposit.” He produced the folded black bank bag from his back pocket. 

She kept her smile in place and nodded slightly. “Wonderful, welcome back. Please follow along the queue, and we will be right with you.” 

Ben nodded his thanks and walked into the bank proper. As he passed the woman still holding the door, he noticed she was nearly his height, had he not been slouching. Ben knew he was an impressive stature, towering over more than the majority of the people he met, but she was giving him a run for his money. With her short wavy haircut and black pinstriped pantsuit, she cut an impressive figure. Ben straightened his back a bit before continuing towards where she directed him. 

Because of the early time, Ben was alone in the bank save for the staff. One of which was keeping an eye on the parking lot through the door Ben had come in from, and the other had his back to Ben. His hair was a lovely light auburn, slicked back with product to keep it out of his face, Ben assumed. He turned completely once Ben got closer to the counter. He nodded in acknowledgement. 

“Hello, sir - how may I assist you?” Ben’s sleep-starved brain could think of a few things immediately, none of which he intended to announce. 

“Hey there, just need to deposit something,” Ben answered, feeling somehow less put together in the face of his smooth accent than when he walked by the teller’s pinstriped partner. Ben knew his voice was still rough from sleep and so very gravelly it felt more than a little embarrassing. He certainly knew he rolled straight out of bed to be there, but he absolutely did not want to give himself away any more than his tired eyes did. 

The teller hummed and held a hand out, expectantly. Ben blinked owlishly for a moment before digging out the bank bag again. He ignored the heat he felt stealing up the back of his neck from embarrassment at the teller’s pursed lips and quirked brow. 

“Thank you; this shall only take a moment,” he murmured after taking the bag from Ben. He turned his attention to the computer before him, hidden behind the raised counter separating Ben from the inner workings of the bank itself. 

With the teller’s eyes lowered, Ben was able to see how long his eyelashes were, fanned out across sharp cheeks and nearly the same translucent autumn as his hair. Ben was unable to determine if the man was freckled or not, nothing nearly as prominent as his own scattered moles and dark beauty marks; Ben felt if he were standing closer, perhaps he could tell. 

Briefly he was entertained with a daydream of crowding this man against his own counter, bracing his palms on either side of narrow hips and nuzzling in close to trace the line of his sharp cheekbone and into a well-kept sideburn. Ben’s posture was still a bit straightened from walking by the woman who greeted him, but even slouching he could see he still had a slight few inches’ advantage over the teller. The man was also on the thinner side, his suit fitted well to his shoulders and chest, from what little Ben could see over the counter. 

“It is most impolite to stare,” the teller said rather abruptly, pulling Ben from his little reverie with a jolt. Ben tasted shame at being caught, feeling heat creep up the back of his neck and over onto his ears. Thankfully the teller kept his eyes on the computer, but Ben directed his gaze to focus somewhere over his right shoulder now, seemingly trying to look anywhere but at the man tapping away before him. 

The next few minutes passed awkwardly to Ben, the only interaction between them the sound from the teller’s keyboard. Vaguely he heard the woman at the front open the door and greet another customer. 

The sound of a cash counter flicking bills in rapid succession drew Ben’s attention forward. The teller passed over the deposit receipt with practiced ease, nodding as he spoke, “Everything is in order, thank you. Would that be all?” 

Ben met his eyes across the counter wall, noticing they were an unusual mix of blue-green-grey; he found himself nodding, unable to look away. 

“Thank you for choosing First Order National, and enjoy your day,” the teller answered to Ben’s nod, his tone politely flat and obviously bored. Ben could only nod again, feeling rather silly for the action, and instead attempted to mutter a response. He was too late, however - the redhead’s attention was directed to the next person behind Ben. Ben glanced slightly to see that quite a line had developed behind him in the short time he had been enamored with the man behind the counter. 

Ben hastily shoved the yellow deposit receipt into his hoodie pocket and ducked his head as he moved towards the exit. The blonde woman was still there, and as she wished him a good rest of his day as her colleague had, her slightly smug tone told Ben all he needed to know - she had most definitely seen his strange display and lack of focus at the counter. He breezed by her as she held the door for him, nodding (again, shit, all he could do was fucking nod) and trying to not-so-obviously sprint to his car. 

Once he was safely buckled behind the slightly illegal tint of his windows, Ben let out the breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. He ran both his hands over the worn black leather of his steering wheel cover and sighed. It was definitely too early for this shit. 

As Ben was halfway to Han’s shop to drop the deposit receipt with Rey, he groaned. 

All that, and he never bothered to check the man’s name tag. 

* * *

Hux’s attention was subtly divided between waiting on the machine to count his current client’s deposit and watching that large hulking mass of a man scuttle across the parking lot and out of sight. He glanced to his right and found Phasma grinning at him after taking her place at the computer she should have been at all morning, instead of playing greeter like some octogenarian while the line tripled. He scowled. 

“Kind of you to lend your assistance,” he noted, tone cooly polite. 

“It is truly my pleasure,” she responded; Hux could hear the smug expression in her tone. 

After the line died down, Hux turned to restock his personal bank and left Phasma to deal with whomever entered the bank alone. It was hardly much of a punishment; Hux was less than ten feet from the counter while he opened the door for the walk-in safe. 

“So that man earlier.” 

Hux sighed. 

“Do be more specific, Phasma - several of our clients this morning have been male.” 

Phasma’s chuckle floated through the empty lobby with little effort. “I doubt I need to - the dark haired man with the broad shoulders, dressed all in black.” 

Hux hummed while he traded a twenty for several rolls of pennies. 

When Hux didn’t elaborate, Phasma continued: “The one with the deep voice, daydreaming about pressing you over the counter.” 

Hux spun on his heel with a hiss, more annoyed with his pale complexion betraying his embarrassment than her actual words. “Phasma - watch your mouth.” 

She just grinned wider, enjoying his obvious discomfort. “Please, he was hardly subtle. Anyone could tell, the tension was gag-inducing.” Hux rolled his eyes and turned back to the mundane task of weighing each roll of coin before completing his purchase for his personal bank. 

“Want to hear what I think?” She asked after a few more minutes of blessed silence. Hux didn’t answer until the door to the safe was locked and he was back at his console. 

“I believe you are going to tell me no matter what answer I give,” Hux replied, keeping his tone bored. He should have known Phasma was going to be insufferable, as was her habit every Friday morning. 

“We haven’t seen the last of that man.” 

* * *

Ben found himself feeling a bit of deja vu nearly a week later when, at almost midnight, his phone dinged with a text from Han, explaining in some equivalent of a shitty excuse that he needed Ben to drop his deposit off again at the bank the following morning. Ben rolled his eyes to the benefit of no one but himself and his phone screen while he typed out his consent - he would be by early the next morning to grab the bag from Rey and then head off to First Order National. At least Han wasn’t texting him at 3am again, giving Ben enough warning to close his garage and settle in early. 

The thought of going into First Order brought a familiar mix of giddy anticipation and woeful embarrassment. He was interested in seeing that handsome teller again, having thought of little else during the passing week, but also leaning heavily towards never wanting to see the man again, for as long as possible. The annoyance from his own behavior, appearance, and lack of attention churned into a somewhat desperate need to prove himself, to give a better impression. 

Somehow, he found himself craving to see approval in the stormy green eyes of that teller, despite not having the man’s attention for more than five minutes the previous week. 

So Ben set his alarm to 7am for the next day and fell asleep rather quickly after successfully working out to ignore his building nerves. He took more time than usual for his morning routine, ensuring his hair wasn’t messy and his clothing better fitted than the tattered shop jeans and dark hoodie he had worn the previous week. 

Rey quirked an inquisitive brow at him when he swung by the shop to collect Han’s deposit. Of course his sister was aware of how much of a morning person he wasn’t - he could practically taste the questions she wanted to pile onto him, but he left before she could ask. He knew his phone would be getting several text messages soon enough, anyway. 

Ben pulled up to First Order with five minutes before open; he parked off to the side of the main entrance, should he need to beat another hasty retreat it would be to less of an audience. He climbed out of his car with more grace than the previous week, now having been awake for more than thirty minutes. He patted against the bank bag in his front pocket to confirm it was still there before striding as slow as his long gait allowed to the front door. He heard the lock for the door click once he was only a few feet away; the person unlocking the door wasn’t the blonde from the week before, but rather a short mousey-looking man with cropped brown hair. 

Ben knew he struck an imposing figure - he had confirmed this in his own mirror before leaving and again in his reflection of the glass door he now opened - but he certainly wasn’t sure he warranted the reaction this man gave him. His jaw dropped while his eyes widened comically with fear; it had been a long time since Ben had seen someone’s reaction to him so openly tainted with fear before Ben had even opened his mouth. 

Ben stood awkwardly in the open doorway, feeling overly too large and unwelcome as seconds ticked into a full minute. Still, the much shorter man continued to stare and neglected to move. Ben cleared his throat and shifted his weight to his other foot. 

“I, uh, need to make a deposit?” he ventured, mentally cursing himself for his questioning tone. Obviously he had business at the bank or he wouldn’t be there. When the man still didn’t move, Ben pushed his polarized sunglasses up to the top of his head, hoping that he wouldn’t look as threatening (? - the sunglasses were hardly the source, of that Ben was confident) with them off. 

Ben opened his mouth to say something again when a clipped voice echoed from behind the visibly shaken man. “Dopheld, kindly remove yourself from the doorway.” 

Ben hazarded a glance over the short man and saw the teller from last week, looking very much as handsome as before. His suit was deep charcoal, his tie a bright crimson that flattered his hair and complexion, and his frown just as pointed and sharp as last week. Ben swallowed thickly. 

The teller’s crisp tone triggered something in the short man - Dopheld - that finally prompted him to step out of the doorway and move several feet from Ben. Ben tried to offer something of a comforting smile to Dopheld, but the man pointedly avoided his gaze and literally scuttled away to the half door that lead to the safety of the counter. Ben managed to catch his temper before it began to rise; he had honestly never seen that little man before, and he was acting like Ben was going to throttle him to within an inch of his life. 

A younger and angrier Ben would have absolutely hollered something after the pitiful man’s retreating back, maybe even rush after him with intent. However, now-Ben was much more level-headed after years of anger management and bi-weekly therapy appointments. Ben never felt more grateful for what he had initially believed to be a waste of time; without it, he surely would have made an ass of himself in front of someone he was becoming enamored with, while also getting himself banned from yet another establishment. 

Ben cleared his throat a bit awkwardly and continued through the lobby. He watched Dopheld approach the teller with his eyes downcast; Ben slowed his steps to give them a few more seconds for privacy. He swept his gaze around the lobby, and after seeing that it was only Dopheld and the other man on staff, turned back to the roped queue with purpose - he was early, after all, but this was an insanely busy bank, which was one of the reasons he knew Han tried to push off any bank runs when possible. Ben knew he wouldn’t be the only one here for long. 

As Ben grew closer to the counter, he heard the teller’s accented voice pitched low, likely in reprimand based on Dopheld’s ashamed expression. He was still too far away to hear what was being said, so instead Ben watched the curve of the teller’s pink lips while he spoke. Ben suddenly wished he could read lips better, somewhat fascinated by the movement and flashes of white teeth and tongue he managed to catch. Ben belatedly remembered that he wasn’t wearing his glasses - the entire reason he wore them inside was to utilize their dark polarization to keep his staring less obvious - but it would be more obvious should he slide them back over his eyes. He hoped he had reigned it all in in time. 

Based on the silence and narrowed focus the redhead teller had trained on him, Ben resigned himself to not being entirely successful. 

Still, he approached the counter with determination, hoping he kept his expression somewhat neutral. “Hey there, I have a deposit to make.” 

“Good morning,” the teller answered, holding his hand over the counter for the bag Ben produced and passed to him. “This should only take a moment.” 

Ben nodded, and respectfully looked towards the back wall when he heard typing begin on the computer between them. He had purposefully looked for any name plates on his walk up and had seen none. A quick glance at the man’s lapel produced a pinned name tag - A. Hux - and Ben had to duck his head to fight a blooming smile. Finally, he had a name. (He ignored the part of his mind that chastised him for being so clearly unobservant the last time he had been there.) 

“Here is your receipt.” Ben glanced up as A. Hux slid over the yellow carbon paper. His fingers were long and thin, almost delicate; Ben wondered how his skin would feel if their fingers managed to touch. He would have to continue to wonder - A. Hux pulled his hand back as soon as Ben showed intent to reach for the paper. 

“Was there anything else I can assist you with?” A. Hux continued, face set in a mask of polite disinterest. A question traveled across Ben’s mind and was out his mouth before he could even give it a second thought. 

“Yes - what does the ‘A’ stand for?” Ben felt like wincing when the corner of A. Hux’s left eye twitched for a moment. 

There was a tense pause before A. Hux answered. “I do believe that is none of your business.” 

Ben felt disappointment and a little bit of annoyance bubble in his chest. “Why put the initial there at all, if you don’t want someone to ask?” 

“Usually clients have no reason to,” A. Hux responded smoothly. Ben decided to ignore the heavily implied notion that he was being nosy and offered a slight shrug. 

“Technically, I’m not a client,” Ben quipped. One of A. Hux’s brows lifted slightly, prompting Ben to run a nervous hand through his hair to stall. His fingers caught his sunglasses on the way and tucked them into the collar of his dress shirt. “My father is, and he generally tries to avoid this place. So you’ll likely be seeing more of me - Ben Solo.” Ben accompanied his name with his hand, hoping he wouldn’t have to wait too long, but fully prepared to be ignored. 

_“Charmed,”_ A. Hux replied, dryly. His tone quirked a smirk from Ben that grew when A. Hux accepted his offered handshake. Those thin fingers gripped Ben’s hand firmly, almost as if the other man had something to prove when he squeezed with enough force to grind together bone. 

It didn’t bother Ben in the slightest; he pumped his arm a few times and released A. Hux’s hand perhaps a second or two too late. If he was caught, A. Hux didn’t reveal anything in his expression. Ben continued to grin after A. Hux’s (softer, cooler) hand left his grip. 

“So if you aren’t going to tell me what the ‘A’ means, what can I call you?” Ben pressed. 

Another slight pause. “Simply ‘Hux’ will do.” 

Ben nodded over his slight disappointment. “Hux it is, then.” 

Hux returned his nod. He glanced slightly to Ben’s left, drawing Ben’s attention with him; during their brief exchange, a few customers had entered the bank and now stood in a line behind him. The person closest to Ben huffed slightly with annoyance. Ben felt like rolling his eyes at her but instead ignored her in favor of looking at Hux again. 

“Was there anything else I may assist you with today?” Hux asked, tone falling back to politely disinterested. 

Ben shook his head slightly, pocketing the carbon paper in his leather jacket. “I’m all set, Hux.” 

“Wonderful,” Hux drawled. “Thank you for choosing First Order National.” 

Ben wasn’t quite ready to leave, but he didn’t want to piss Hux off any more than he already seemed. His frightened colleague wasn’t back to help with the growing line either, and Ben doubted he would be until Ben was long gone. 

Ben rapped his knuckles against the counter and slid his sunglasses back over his nose with a sly grin. “Have a great week, A. Hux.” 

Hux’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You as well, Ben Solo.” 

Ben offered a lazy salute as he left the bank, keeping his grin in check as much as possible until he was sitting behind the safety of his tinted windows. He bit his lip slightly, feeling a warmth blossom in his chest while he absently watched the impatient woman behind him in line leave the bank. He started his car once she was right next to him and enjoyed watching her jump from the loud engine. 

Ben knew he would be volunteering as Han’s bank bitch for the foreseeable future. 

* * *

“I am s-sorry, Mr. Hux.” 

“Quite alright, Dopheld,” Hux answered immediately, more for the sake of pretense to the people still in line rather than Dopheld himself. The smaller man took back over the console to Hux’s left once the door closed on Ben Solo’s heels. 

Together they worked through the line with relative ease. Efficiency was certainly a trait that Hux enjoyed about Dopheld, however he was rapidly questioning the man’s backbone, if simply seeing a person like Ben Solo had sent him scattering to the supply closet without hardly a glance back. Hux allowed a few minutes after the last client left before turning to his subordinate with a raised brow. “Would you care to explain yourself?” 

Dopheld fumbled with the stack of ones he was wrapping; a few bills floated lazily to the grey carpet. Dopheld gasped and bent to snatch the errant bills, missing Hux’s eye roll entirely. 

“Yes, ah, yessir, I’m sorry,” he stuttered, scrambling to pick the ones up and face them properly before wrapping the small stack. Hux shifted his posture to better give his attention. 

“I ah…I’ve seen him, before.” 

“Here?” To Hux’s memory, the first time he had seen Ben Solo in his bank was a week ago that day. 

“No, no sir, not here. Outside.” Hux fought the urge to glare at Dopheld. “He uh, he-he must live near me, near my house. I’ve seen him around the complex before.” 

Hux waited; Dopheld swallowed, his eyes down on his hands. Hux couldn’t stand the stalling. 

“Good lord, Mitaka, has he accosted you for your lunch money?” 

Dopheld flinched at Hux’s tone - sharp, impatient - Hux huffed in response. “No, no! No sir - I mean, he hasn’t. Actually, we’ve never spoken. I just see him, walking around the street at odd times of night. He spends an absurd amount of time locked in a warehouse near an abandoned lot across from the buildings, and I-I….hear things.” 

Hux desperately fought the urge to snap at the man again. “What type of things?” 

“Slams, crashes - awful music,” Dopheld whispered, eyes wide with long-bred fear. Hux expected him to check his surroundings to confirm that Ben Solo was indeed gone and not lurking behind some corner to eavesdrop. “Sometimes, his hands are bandaged up, stained red with…” Dopheld shivered. This time, Hux couldn’t quite resist his glare. 

“Take a break, Dopheld,” Hux sighed. “Come back in fifteen minutes - not a minute sooner.” 

Dopheld gave a jerky nod and then dipped back out to the supply room. Hux didn’t watch him go, instead turning to look beyond the tinted glass of the front door. He watched a sleek black car, a Camaro, navigate through the bank’s parking lot in a low rumble. The clearly illegal black tint reminded Hux of the dark glass of Ben Solo’s sunglasses. 

Dopheld’s harrowing description of his neighbor’s pastimes did pique Hux’s curiosity. Perhaps he was part of some dark cult, planning to sacrifice Mitaka at neigh a moment’s notice (Hux doubted he was hardly that lucky), a member of a BDSM group that met at odd hours of the day, or frontman for some trash metal garage band. 

Hux rubbed the fingers of his right hand, the hand that Ben Solo had taken. Maybe the reason was more subdued and far less fanatical; based on the warm roughness of Ben Solo’s palm, he likely worked with his hands. That garage near an abandoned lot could clearly be his workspace. Knowing Dopheld’s penchant for exaggeration, that fish will likely quadruple in size the next time Ben Solo graces Hux’s bank with his presence. 

The black sports car sped out of the bank parking lot with a loud rumble, leaving little doubt in Hux’s mind to whom the owner may be. 

Hux scoffed, absently continuing to trace his thumb over the lingering warmth left by calloused fingers - what a melodramatic man. 

* * *

True to his own expectations, Ben volunteered himself to take on any of Han’s bank-related errands. He found himself going twice a week - once each Monday and of course every Friday morning. Sometimes Hux wasn’t there on Monday, depending on the time that Ben showed up; but he was sure to be there on Friday. 

Ben noticed that Hux seemed to always open the bank, gracing the otherwise mundane building first thing each morning and often leaving before the last hour of the day. He usually opened with the tall blonde woman - Phasma - and very rarely worked with Dopheld when Ben came by. In fact, once Ben began appearing at the bank on a more regular schedule, he hardly saw the mousey man again. 

(Unfortunately, Ben stumbled upon the man every now and then while he was walking back from his garage. The small man was a proud owner of an even smaller dog, who had more balls than a dog that size really should. The little shit always immediately began barking once it laid eyes on Ben, which would set off Dopheld’s wide-eyed stammering apologies and frantic shushing, usually ending in an awkward wave and murmured ‘good night’ from Ben after Dopheld couldn’t handle it any longer and scooped the little asshole up to disappear around the nearest convenient corner. Ben only paid enough attention to make sure the man didn’t pass out around said corner before continuing on his way.) 

Ben always took care of his appearance before stopping at the bank, now becoming enough of a regular to make small talk with Phasma if he happened to get her console instead of Hux - there was only so many times he could let people go in front of him in the line before becoming too obvious. Usually he wore a less-wrinkled button down or henley under his jacket and clean black jeans, trying to present himself at least partially put-together and not like he was just finishing a new project, or restoration for Han. He was successful more days than not, but he had turned up at the pristine First Order wearing sooty boots and ripped jeans more than once. 

That Thursday seemed like it was going to be a repeat. Ben was practically elbow deep in an engine restoration with Rey, grunting out parts for her to order while she tapped them out on her tablet, when he felt rough fingers tapping his shoulder. 

“What?” he grunted, jerking his shoulder in an annoyed shrug. “Need a repeat?” 

“Need you to hit the bank, kid.” Han’s voice made Ben exhale through his nose - so not Rey, then. 

“Can’t you see I’m busy with your shit project?” Ben huffed, shrugging again when Han’s fingers tapped more urgently. Ben rolled his eyes but leaned back from where he was bent at the waist over the engine; he grabbed the top of the propped hood to keep his balance. 

“Bank closes in half an hour,” Han answered, ignoring Ben’s barb, his hip cocked against the front quarter panel of Ben’s restoration in a relaxed lean. 

When nothing more came, Ben shrugged. “Okay? I’m going in the morning.” Tomorrow was Friday, and Ben hadn’t missed a Friday at First Order National since he started playing Han’s bank bitch a few months ago. He was hoping to see that beautiful cerulean tie that brought out Hux’s eyes but he rarely wore. Ben thought in another month, he may have figured out his tie rotation. 

“Gotta have it tonight,” Han pressed. “Need to pay Lando.” 

Ben groaned, ignoring Rey’s snickering on the other side of the truck. “Seriously? He can’t wait sixteen hours?” 

“Nope,” Han cheerfully replied. “Why don’t you go wash up so we can sign the check.” 

Ben stepped down heavily from the truck’s bumper, dragging out a stained red rag from his back pocket. “I don’t have a choice, do I?” 

“Nope!” Han repeated, his voice pitched to carry around the shop’s door. Ben cursed and rolled his eyes, focusing his attention on trying to get the grease off of his fingers. 

“Oh Benny,” Rey called from behind. “Are you sure you’re fine with looking like that?” 

“Like what?” Ben mumbled, walking further away from her and the truck, looking for the orange bottle of degreaser soap. He hummed in triumph when he found it on the cluttered counter near his phone and water bottle, squirting a liberal amount onto his hands while shifting closer to the nearby sink. 

“Going to the bank looking like a greased-up lunatic,” Rey drawled. Ben paused in turning on the water to glance up at his reflection - shit, Rey was absolutely not joking. Bits of stray hair that had escaped his tight braid throughout the day stuck to his forehead with dried sweat and smeared grease; more streaks of black littered his cheeks and chin from where Ben had predictably tried to swipe at more errant hair and drips of sweat. Ben groaned and pressed his forehead to the cool mirror while he turned on the water. Of course he had to go to the damn bank after a ridiculously complicated restoration. 

_“Fuuuuuuuuuck.”_

Rey laughed behind him; Ben regretted confiding in her about Hux when he couldn’t dodge her questions anymore about why he was so excited to go to the bank of all places. 

Ben scrubbed at his hands until he could vaguely see more skin than grease, and was rubbing his palms over his face when Han returned with the signed check. Ben snatched the offered towel from him and signed his signature, tossing the damp towel at Rey’s snickering face before removing the keys for Han’s work truck from the cabinet by the shop door. Like hell was he going to grease up his Camaro on top of everything else. 

Ben hoped his ruddy face would relax on the drive over, keeping the windows down despite the mid-fall chill. He realized he also left his jacket back in Han’s shop when he pulled up to the bank and almost turned back for it. A glance at the clock in the dash stopped him - the bank would be long closed before Ben would be back with his jacket. With a defeated sigh, Ben cut the engine and climbed out, heading straight for the front door. 

At least it was Thursday night, so Hux wouldn’t be there to see Ben covered in grease and sweat. He just hoped it was his weird neighbor, so he could get out in an awkward flash. 

* * *

Hux breathed in the steam coming from his mug, grudgingly grateful to Mitaka for paying for it, despite knowing it was nearly a bribe to keep him longer. Mitaka had needed to leave his shift earlier than anticipated, something about his annoying little dog causing problems with the pet sitter. (Hux had stopped listening after Dopheld said ‘dog’, very much over all of Mitaka’s many stories about his little ankle-biter.) 

He took a slow sip, leaning back against the counter in the bank’s small break room. Phasma was out making the preliminary closing rounds of the lobby, collecting any trash and straightening all the pens and deposit slips. Hux was allowed a moment to savor his tea before he would take the mug with him to the front, where he could begin counting down each till. He hummed and took another sip. 

A light knocking on the ajar door to the break room caught Hux’s attention. 

“Hux, I need to use the loo, mind watching the front?” 

Hux sighed, drawing the sound out while he straightened from his slight slouch. “I suppose.” 

Phasma rolled her eyes with a small grin. “I doubt the world will implode, Hux; I’m sure you’ll be quite alright.” 

Hux pressed his lips together while he walked with her back to the front. “If you insist.” 

“I do!” She called cheerily over her shoulder, disappearing down a short hall on the other side of the lobby. No sooner had Hux lost sight of her blonde hair did the small bell over the main entrance tingle. Hux resisted expressing his annoyance at a client rudely entering a place of business so near to closing, instead setting his hot mug behind a stand up advertising First Order’s savings enrollment plans on the console beside him. 

When Hux flicked his eyes up, the greeting died on his lips. 

The rude client was none other than Ben Solo, the man who had rapidly become more of a regular client than his father, the actual account holder. Him turning up on a Thursday was unusual; according to Phasma and Dopheld, Ben Solo did not enter the bank except on Monday and Friday, and today was certainly Thursday; Hux had filled the date out on all his closing paperwork already. 

(Hux ignored how his stomach flipped with the knowledge that this may mean he now needed to close Thursdays instead of open, to avoid an additional Issue between Dopheld and the stunning man crossing his lobby, not to see more of him. He ignored this flip about as well as he ignored his own behavior when he caught himself casting glances out into the parking lot about midday each Monday and early Friday mornings, listening for the distinctive rumble of Ben’s car when it entered the parking lot and wondering if he may catch a glimpse of it before hearing the engine.) 

Hux, however, had to clear his throat subtly - not only was Ben appearing outside of his norm, he was also dressed rather uniquely. His usual dark jeans and heavy boots were present, albeit quite dirty and expected. It was really his lack of a true shirt that drew Hux’s eye. The overlarge man wore a black muscle tank that had the armpits cut clear down to his hips, exposing his thickly muscled arms and wide shoulders. Hux followed the length of the tattered shirt, covered in grease to match the streaks littering Ben’s forearms, to where the shirt was loosely tucked into the front of his jeans. Each step he took pulled at the fabric, revealing more impossibly corded muscle down his ribs and abdomen. 

Hux was very grateful that Phasma was otherwise occupied and in an entirely different room. He was doing admirably well with the current state of things, and he certainly did not need Phasma whispering obvious observations into his ear. 

Ben walked around the roped queue directly to Hux, his sunglasses still perched on his handsome nose. Hux preferred when Ben took the glasses off so he wouldn’t be forced to hold a conversation with his own reflection, but based on Ben’s slightly withdrawn posture, Hux had a feeling he would be dealing with a fairly one-sided correspondence this time. 

“Good evening, Ben,” Hux greeted, somewhat proud that his tone didn’t betray how rather… _affected_ he was by Ben’s appearance. 

“Hey Hux,” he murmured, voice quiet. Hux was certain that if he could see Ben’s eyes, those would be lowered to match as well. “Sorry for, uh, coming in so late. Need to cash this check.” 

Hux looked down at a rustling sound; Ben passed over a slightly-rumpled check with darkened fingers. Grease, his mind helpfully supplied. Hux vaguely wondered what Ben was working on. It must have been for the majority of the day, judging from the slight flush of his cheeks against the cooler air in the bank. Ben shifted his weight when Hux reached forward to take the check. 

“No need to apologize,” Hux replied, perhaps in a softer tone than he normally would. Ben was obviously concerned with coming in so near closing, dressed from a hard day’s work no less - Hux was merely being courteous. Ben flashed one of his endearing crooked grins gratefully, making heat steal up Hux’s neck. He quickly lowered his eyes to the console before him and typed in Han Solo’s account number (another thing he ignored - he scarcely needed to glance at the check before typing in the number). 

A silence settled over them while Hux expertly keyed in the information needed to cash Ben’s check. He had been doing this for years - he could absolutely type any numbers in his sleep. Hux knew he could provide a decent excuse should he be pressed for why his attention slipped, caught on watching Ben reach one large hand up to first brush a few floating hairs back from his forehead, and then trail to settle against the back of his neck. A very decent excuse, and one that did not have anything to do with how distracting the bunching of so much muscle was. 

Hux fought to bite his lip and cleared his throat. “One more moment.” 

Ben nodded; Hux turned his back to Ben to approach the walk-in safe behind him. His personal till had more than enough to cover the check, but suddenly he felt too warm and needed an excuse to step back. 

After drawing the money out, Hux fed it to a bill counter and then sealed it all into a red First Order National envelope. He took a quick breath before turning back. 

Ben had removed his sunglasses to tuck into the front of his tank - the loose fabric dipped under the weight of the glasses to rest at Ben’s sternum and expose the smooth expanse of his chest. He was fussing with straightening his hair, releasing the dark strands from what Hux could now see was a rather intricate braid. Ben pulled gently until a few pins came loose, then ran his free hand through his hair while his other tucked the pins into the front pocket of his jeans. 

Hux blinked, drawn by the overwhelming urge to replace Ben’s hand with his own and slowly work his fingers into the tangles to free them himself. Hux clutched the hand not holding the paper envelope tightly; he knew he would have indents from his nails when he checked later. “Here you are, Ben.” 

Ben nodded, ending his fussing with his hair to reach a large hand between them for the envelope. Hux would normally leave anything for Ben on the counter; this time, he held the envelope himself and swallowed quickly when Ben’s fingers grazed his own. His skin was dry and so very warm, not at all tacky from grease as Hux had expected. 

“Thanks, Hux,” Ben said quietly, flashing a small grin. Hux, despite his usual calm and professionally disinterested demeanor, felt himself smiling in return - a rarity. 

Something began to build between them, no words, simply charged air and smiles. It seemed to simultaneously slow time and increase the beating of Hux’s very heart. Goodness, but Hux was far gone for this strange and quiet man. Something trilled from Ben’s pocket, breaking the tension between them. 

Ben fumbled for a moment, not sure what to do with the things in his hands. A few hairpins and the red envelope rested on the counter while he fished into the deep back pocket of his jeans for his phone. Hux had seen it before, when Ben was waiting in the teller queue; it was a large smartphone, likely the bigger version of his own, and even with the added screen size, Ben’s hands somehow dwarfed it. 

_“Shit,”_ Ben hissed; he ran his other hand through his hair and glanced up at Hux. “I’m sorry, I ah, I have to go. Han’s fucked something up, and my sister needs me like, yesterday.” 

Hux ignored the blossom of disappointment in his ribs, not entirely sure what he had been expecting anyway (he had been there for the check after all, and Hux had long taken care of that). Still, Ben’s expression and tone were both apologetic, which mollified Hux enough to nod. 

“Very well, then,” Hux said, somewhat annoyed with the breathy quality of his voice. “Enjoy your evening.” 

Ben looked up from where he was shoving various items back into his pockets \- phone, hairpins, envelope - and blinked. “You too, Hux. I mean it.” 

Hux could only blink back and nod. “Thank you, Ben.” Remembering the next day was Friday, Hux added: “See you in the morning.” 

Ben winked at him, his lips spreading in a charming smirk. “It’s a date.” Then he was spinning on his heel and striding confidently towards the exit before Hux could respond, leaving his eyes trained on the sway of Ben’s dark hair, more wild and ethereal after being freed from the confines of a day-long braid, and a darkened red rag dangling from his back pocket. Hux watched Ben continue to walk towards a cliché sunset backdrop, through the exit and across the parking lot to a grey truck with the words ‘SOLO AND CREW’ printed in dark blue across the door and body. Hux had expected Ben to turn and look back towards the bank when he did, and Hux wondered if he could see him through the glass, or if he had even felt Hux’s eyes on him while he walked. 

“Holy shit, I have never seen two men so thirsty before _in my life.”_

Hux flinched at Phasma's voice; he had completely forgotten about time, let alone that he was not the only occupant in the bank. 

_“Shut up,”_ he snapped. Phasma tossed her head back and laughed as she pushed herself off of the wall she had been leaning on, no doubt watching the entire exchange with far too much interest. Hux glared at her while she chuckled and walked to the front door to lock it. A quick glance at Hux’s console noted that they had stayed open almost 10 minutes too late. 

“He said ‘date’, Hux,” Phasma continued after rounding the counter to begin counting her till. “That is quite promising, yes?” 

“I have no idea what you’re on about,” Hux murmured, removing his cash tray with perhaps a bit too much force. 

“I suppose we’ll find out in the morning,” Phasma continued as if Hux hadn’t spoken. “I bet he’ll pass you his number, or maybe ask you on a proper date.” 

Hux took a measured breath, ignoring this slight tremble from his fingers. “Do shut up, Phasma, would you?” 

He saw her shrug out of the corner of his eye. “Whatever, Armitage - you can’t ignore this forever.” 

Hux slammed down four rolls of quarters with a resounding crack, ending the conversation. Phasma couldn’t be more wrong; Hux had no plans to ignore Ben and his large, amber doe-eyes - he simply did not want to risk dragging the man across the counter and making a bloody scene. 

* * *

Ben was mortified - had he really said ‘it’s a date’ to Hux of all people? Shit he was more like his father than he cared to admit. He thumped his forehead against the wheel between his palms; he would force Rey to listen to his bitching, as this was quite literally her fault. If Ben hadn’t been distracted by her SOS text, he would have had more time to figure out something not asinine to say. 

Not to mention, more time to take in Hux’s gorgeous eyes. It was a downright sin how fluid those eyes were, sliding from blue to green to grey and back again with a quirk of his brow or a sliver of light catching them just so. Those eyes reflecting the sunset from outside damn near made Ben speechless. 

Ben groaned and dragged himself from the truck. 

“Rey, this better be outstanding,” Ben called, hooking Han’s keys back on the wall. 

“Dad burned out the engine,” she answered. Ben groaned again. 

“Are you serious? Fuck, I had it stable less than an hour ago.” 

She shrugged; Ben cursed again. “Whatever. I’m not doing this again tonight. Just order the fucking parts and then call me when they come in.” 

“How was the bank?” Rey asked in way of answering; she was already tapping away on her tablet, so Ben figured she had the order under control. 

Ben sighed and leaned against the counter behind him, crossing his arms over his chest. He winced when he caught sight of the streaks of grease he had missed on his forearms. Hux must think he’s a damn mess. “Fine.” 

“Fine?” 

“It was just the bank, Rey.” 

Rey hummed. “Right, _just_ the bank.” 

Ben rolled his eyes. “Thanks to your text, I said something stupid, and now I have to face him again in the morning.” 

Rey’s attention pulled fully from the tablet. Leave it to her to be more interested in Ben humiliating himself than fixing whatever she helped break while he was out. “Oh yeah? Like?” 

Ben felt heat creep up his neck and ears. “He said ‘See you tomorrow’ and I said ‘It’s a date’.” 

Rey winced. “Oh, you didn’t.” 

Ben shrugged; Rey sighed. 

“Did you really say that, still not having asked the man on an actual date yet?” She pressed; Ben tucked his chin down to his chest to hide his deepening flush. “Well, now you have to.” 

Ben immediately looked up to lock eyes with his younger sister. “I doubt he’s interested in me, Rey. He’s so…high-strung and perfect; literally my opposite.” 

“Opposites attract, Benny,” Rey dismissed. “Besides, you never really know until you try. If things don’t go well, I’ll take over the bank runs for a bit until Mom makes Dad start going again.” 

That was one of the reasons Ben had never asked; he still had to take Han’s bank deposits, and he wasn’t too sure how he would be able to effectively avoid Hux when things eventually turned awkward. They really were two different types of people, which would very likely go south incredibly fast. 

But, Rey also had a point - opposites tended to attract, and their parents were quite literally the poster couple for that argument. He felt Rey’s eyes on him the entire time he churned, thinking, running his tongue over his teeth behind pursed lips. 

Rey’s face lit up when he sighed. “Alright, I’ll do it. But you have to help me.” 

“Yes, absolutely!” 

“And none of this weak shit you’ve offered in the past - I need prime ideas, big ideas, little sister.” 

Rey huffed at his teasing but didn’t lose her excited gleam. “I know just what you should do.” 

* * *

The next morning found Ben following Rey’s orders almost to the letter. He woke up earlier than normal, even for a Friday, and ran through a shorter version of his usual upper body exercises before hopping into a quick shower. _(“You’ve got fantastic arms and a fit physique; use it.”)_

He carefully pulled on the clothes Rey had advised he iron the night before \- over a thin black tank, one of his nicer button-ups, now softer from the ironing and almost a touch too snug from his impromptu workout. The shirt had been a gift from his mother for his latest gallery showing, and one that was easily one of his favourites. _(“Wear that shirt Mom got you, the black one with the red threading and glossy shine. It will compliment your skin tone and highlight your hair. Oh, and keep the top two buttons undone.”)_

Black fitted jeans and his nicer combat boots completed the look; he took his time drying and adding a touch of pomade to his hair, running his fingers through to get everything laying just right. _(“I’m sure he adores your hair, pay extra attention there.”_

_“Fuck, Rey - you’re dressing me for a date I haven’t even gotten.”_

_“And? Impressions are important; if you look good asking him, you’re guaranteeing to look good for the real deal too, yeah?”)_

Ben checked his phone, surprised it was still so early - he was practically ready, wondering now how to bide his time before heading to the bank. Remembering he was suppose to send Rey a picture, he stepped back into the bathroom and maneuvered around until he felt his posture and angle were decent enough before snapping a picture in the mirror and texting it to his sister. 

A few minutes passed before he received a thumbs up emoji and a floating ellipsis, signaling more to follow. 

**8:15am** **Rey-Rey: Perfect! He will absolutely say yes.**

**8:15am** **Rey-Rey: Do you have lip balm?**

Ben hesitated, thinking. 

_8:16am_ _I have chapstick?_

**8:16am** **Rey-Rey: Flavor?**

_8:16am_ _Green tea & mint_

**8:16am** **Rey-Rey: Boring but fine, put it on now so it doesn’t look too fresh.**

Ben rolled his eyes but did as told; after a moment’s consideration, he pocketed the small tube to take with him. 

_8:18am_ _Done_

**8:19am** **Rey-Rey: :) There is nothing more I can do. now don’t fuck it up**

Ben huffed a laugh and replied with the middle finger emoji, locking the screen before sliding the phone into his pocket. He glanced at his reflection again, wondering what Hux would think when he saw him. Would he be impressed? Would he not care at all, depositing Ben’s black bag and then passing to the next person? 

Ben worried his bottom lip, teeth catching on the slide of the chapstick he had liberally anointed. Only one way to find out. 

Thirty-five minutes later placed Ben outside of the bank; he had neglected to get the bank bag from Han the night before in his haste to get back to his flat and begin ironing his shirt, so he had to make a slight detour once he realized it wasn’t in his glovebox. 

Han had only blinked sleepily at him before passing over the deposit without even so much as a word about his appearance. Rey, eager to see him in person despite the earlier picture, had rushed downstairs and hopped onto the nearby couch to pull Ben closer by the shoulder. She added a dark brushed metal chain to his attire, the metal rapidly warming against the dip in his clavicle. 

“Early birthday present,” Rey answered when Ben glanced at her quizzically. “Thought you could use it now.” He hugged her tight around the ribs before lifting her from the couch and back to the floor. 

“Thanks, brat,” he murmured fondly into her hair. She swatted and shoved at him until he was out the door and officially On His Way, calling after him to text her immediately. 

Now, the Camaro’s engine purred in idle outside of the bank while he waited, trying not to run his hands through his hair while he watched time drag by. He avoided worrying his lip again as well, not wanting to sport the artificial shine of freshly-applied chapstick again. Rey had been right about applying it some time before he intended to see Hux; his lips felt softer for it. 

Movement at the bank’s door caught Ben’s attention; Phasma was unlocking the door and pushing it open, shielding her eyes from the bright sun as she looked his direction. Ben let a slow breath through his nose - now or never. 

Phasma waved when Ben climbed out of his car after killing the engine; he pocketed his keys and offered a small wave in return. He could clearly see Phasma’s grin when she turned back to announce something to whomever was still in the bank. Likely Hux, Ben thought, feeling heat rush up the back of his neck and crawl across both ears. 

Phasma, as usual, held the door open as Ben took the stairs two at a time. “Morning, Phasma.” 

“Yes, quite a good morning indeed, Ben,” she answered, her grin downright feral. “You look positively ravishing.” 

Ben ducked his head to hide his embarrassment as he felt renewed heat creep around his collar. His eyes locked around the level of Phasma’s red heels. “Ah, thanks.” 

“No thanks needed,” Phasma replied, her tone betraying the humor in her expression. Ben suddenly felt far too self-conscious, bordering on feeling like a fool. What was he thinking, showing up at here looking like he was dressed for a night on the town? Well, he knew what he was thinking - he was hoping to finally ask Hux out, possibly for that night on the town, and Rey had somehow convinced him to look his absolute best. Foolish, indeed. 

He maneuvered around Phasma still holding the door, to step into the bank proper. Ben took a steadying breath and looked up, hoping to meet Hux’s eyes across from his usual console. Instead, he stared right into the perpetually frightened eyes of Dopheld, and Ben felt his shoulders slump a bit. 

Phasma clacked around him, stepping from tile to carpet, her hips swaying slightly. “Come along now, Ben; you’ve got your deposit?” 

Ben nodded, falling into step behind her. If Phasma wanted to take his deposit instead of Hux, that sounded far better to him than Dopheld, who was already fumbling around with pens and deposit slips and making a grand effort to look anywhere but at Ben again. 

Still, Ben couldn’t help but be disappointed; Hux never missed a Friday in all the months Ben had been making these bank runs. Was he sick? No, he seemed fine last night - Ben nearly tripped over his own boots. That’s what it was. Ben’s comment from last night, about today being a date, that was why Hux was missing. Ben let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, feeling his mood slip far too rapidly into shame and further disappointment. He very obviously had Hux’s answer, then - trying to look his best for nothing but his own ego and his sister, apparently. 

“Just this deposit?” Phasma asked once Ben passed it over the console counter. He nodded, keeping his eyes on his hands after glancing behind the bank counter again for Hux. Phasma didn’t ask, but Ben felt her eyes on him the entire time. 

When she slid the yellow carbon paper over the counter, Ben stuffed it into his front pocket with little preamble. “Thanks.” 

“My pleasure,” she answered, her red lips spreading into a grin. “Well, off you go then; I believe you have other appointments to keep, hmm?” 

Ben wanted to shrug but nodded instead. He didn’t want to contradict her, especially since it would be at his own expense. “Sure, have a good day, Phasma.” She gave a little wave and looked pointedly over his shoulder; Ben ignored it and turned, fishing his phone from his back pocket and keeping his eyes down. He was almost out of the door and about to send a text off to Rey about taking over the bank runs when a familiar voice made him trip for a second time. 

“Are you going to keep me waiting all morning, Ben Solo?” 

Ben spun on his heel, grabbing the handle of the glass door to keep his balance. Hux was rising from the black leather sofa the bank kept in their waiting area (Ben must have missed him entirely when he walked in - how the hell did he manage that?) with a sly curl to his lips. 

_“Hux,”_ Ben breathed, feeling his lips spread into a bright grin. “You’re here.” 

“Of course,” Hux scoffed, crossing the short distance between them. He looked perfect, dressed in pressed slacks and a matching charcoal sweater pulled over a red button down. His hair was softer, somehow - still pushed back with gel, but less severe. Ben swallowed. “I do believe we have a date.” 

When Ben could only continue to stare, Hux shifted slightly. “Unless I was… _mistaken.”_

“No! No, ah, you - you weren’t,” Ben rushed. Hux lowered his eyes slightly, and Ben felt his heart stutter over a faint pink blush across Hux’s high cheekbones. 

“Good,” was Hux’s simple answer, his sly smirk softening at the edges. Oh, what a secret weapon - Ben already knew a simple smile from Hux could bring him to his knees. Ben beamed back, failing to even try to keep it from his face. He held the door open with one hand and offered his other arm to Hux. 

“I was hoping to take you for a coffee,” Ben began, his pulse quickening when Hux didn’t hesitate to slip his arm into the crook of Ben’s elbow. “Does that sound alright?” 

“Tea,” Hux murmured and leaned into Ben’s side when they stepped out into the cool fall morning. “That sounds wonderful.” 

Ben took Hux for his tea, Ben himself drinking his coffee iced and black; time was spent over hours talking, which turned into getting a bite to eat for lunch; lunch merged into a stroll through a local park, and then an art museum; the museum lead to dinner at a local pub that reminded Hux of the food from his childhood. 

The end of the day had Ben dropping Hux off at the bank to collect his car with a promise to text him once he was safely back home. Ben drove home with his head in the clouds; he texted Rey that everything went well, then messaged Hux, who had already been home for a few minutes longer. They spoke more over text, Ben loving how he could hear Hux in each of his messages, grammar and punctuation flawless (Ben was fairly apt at text, but enjoyed letting mistakes normally caught by autocorrect filter through to see Hux’s responses). By the end of the night, they had plans to meet again that weekend. 

Their second date earned Ben a good night kiss on his cheek, and a selfie of Hux cradling his orange tabby Millicent to his chest, his own hair only a few shades darker than that of his cat. Ben saved it as his phone contact for Hux and, after a few hours of worrying, saved it as his phone background, too. 

Ben invited Hux to one of his art showings for their third date; Hux had been impressed, and complimented Ben’s work despite his self-depreciation. 

“I thought you were a mechanic,” Hux said, not unkindly, when Ben had stopped by the bank the Monday after their second date. 

Ben shrugged. “I work on engine restoration and projects with Rey and Han, when things get too complicated. Usually, I spend my time in my own workshop. I rent a garage across from my apartment building that I work out of. I keep ah, odd hours, sometimes.” 

Hux nodded. “That explains quite a bit, actually.” (Ben would later find out from Hux exactly why Dopheld was terrified of him, and what he thought was actually going on in that garage of his.) 

Ben’s showing a few nights later was a success; he had contracts lined up from various businesses wanting to commission sculptures, and nearly all of the exhibit was sold off. He was happy in the success, but even more happy that Hux was there to share it with him. 

Once the last patron left and the gallery owner had disappeared into her office to finalize movers for the various sold pieces, Ben and Hux strolled the converted warehouse alone. 

“Congratulations are in order, Ben,” Hux said, his voice lowered to match the atmosphere of the quiet room. Ben walked with his hands in his jean pockets, the buttons of his blazer undone. 

“Thanks, Hux,” Ben replied warmly. He followed Hux’s slim shadow as he moved around the rooms, flitting from piece to piece, the man himself seeming to gravitate towards one in particular. Ben was secretly embarrassed by it; that particular abstract sculpture was made from bright copper, polished to a glow, and undeniably inspired by the very man studying it. It was a piece he had been working on since the day he first met Hux in an attempt to capture the sharp words and beautiful eyes that had captivated him from the beginning. Ben was both sad and relieved to see it had been one of the first to sell. 

“I’m glad you came,” he continued after watching Hux study the metal for several minutes. 

“To be entirely frank, Ben,” Hux began, his tone flirting simultaneously with distracted and bored. “I was rather thrilled that you asked me.” He straightened from his slight stoop to turn and look at Ben. “You could ask me to watch paint dry with you, and I dare say I would accept.” 

Ben barked a laugh that echoed around the sparsely decorated room. “That’s sweet, Hux.” 

Hux sneered and rolled his eyes. “I am not sweet.” 

Ben continued to grin while he crossed the room to Hux, catching one of his hands and threading their fingers together. “Sure Hux - I forgot, you run an empire of order in your bank.” 

“Absolutely,” Hux snapped, his tone lacking any heat. He turned back to the copper sculpture. “Never forget it.” 

Ben wanted to bury his nose in the soft strands of hair at Hux’s nape. “Certainly.” 

They fell quiet again, Hux tightened his grip where Ben’s had been loose to give Hux a way to pull free, if he wanted. So far, Hux hadn’t rejected any of Ben’s touches. Ben was being careful, easing his way in; he was well aware that he was ‘touchy-feely’, as previous dates and relationships had described him. None of them made him feel the way that Hux did, so he didn't want to push too far. Hand-holding was fine, and almost seemed welcome - Ben had received that kiss over the weekend, but he hadn’t tried again, as much as he ached for a proper kiss from Hux, to finally know what he tasted like. 

“What inspired this?” Hux’s soft voice drew Ben’s attention from the back of his neck to look over his shoulder. He bit his bottom lip. 

“You really want to know?” He countered. Hux turned to look over his shoulder slightly. 

“I don’t ask things if I don’t want the answer,” Hux responded, and Ben sighed; it was a _very_ Hux answer, something he was understanding better about his companion. 

Ben only waited another second, long enough for him to feel a blush beginning on the back of his neck and creeping around to his ears. “You.” 

Hux blinked once, nodded, and then looked forward again. “You named it ‘A’.” 

Ben grinned despite the embarrassment he felt. “I couldn’t really name it ‘Hux’, could I? Wanted you to keep your anonymity for as long as possible, after all.” 

Hux turned abruptly, chin lifted in challenge. “Keep the next one, and call it ‘Armitage’.” 

It only took a few seconds - for the realization to dawn, for the pegs to slide into place - and only another before Ben couldn’t help himself any longer. He took the step between them and pressed his lips to Hux softly, enough pressure to clearly show his intent, but giving Hux a chance to pull away if Ben had misread. 

Instead of pulling away, Hux sighed into the kiss and tilted his chin for a more comfortable angle. He gripped Ben’s fingers harder in the hand that kept them together and slid his other around to Ben’s neck and into his hair. Hux tugged experimentally for a moment, softly, but it had Ben trembling and placing a hand on Hux’s hip to ground himself. 

The kiss was soft and chaste, but full of enough promise and purpose that Ben felt his world tilting on its axis. He felt himself tumbling towards a world he wanted to share with Hux, away from a life he didn’t realize wasn’t what he wanted before. 

They parted lazily, Hux twirling a lock of Ben’s hair between his fingers; Ben rested their foreheads together and smiled. “I suppose it’s my business now, huh?” 

“Hmm?” Hux hummed, his eyes still closed when Ben opened his. 

“Your name.” 

Hux cracked an eye open and quirked a slim eyebrow. “Tell anyone, and I’ll burn you in your sleep.” 

Ben snorted and rolled his eyes, nuzzling along Hux’s nose with his own. “Just gonna ignore that you told me to name a piece of art after you?” 

“One that you would keep,” Hux countered. He pressed a light kiss to Ben’s lips again before traveling north; Ben’s eyes fluttered shut when he felt Hux’s lips against his cheek. “For yourself.” His voice was low, his lips moving softly against Ben’s skin in a lazy trail to his nose. Ben’s breath quickened when Hux lingered against his nose, lips pursed in a manner that left his motives quite clear. 

It was no secret to anyone who knew Ben that he absolutely was not a fan of his nose and ears; both features over-large and sticking out awkwardly despite all Ben tried to do to cover then, especially his ears. He had long given up on his nose, which somehow had remained unbroken in all of the fistfights he entertained as a teen and younger adult. 

“You don’t mind it?” Ben heard himself saying. Hux hummed but didn’t pull away from where he was paying attention to the bridge of Ben’s nose. 

“Quite the contrary,” Hux answered lightly - _honestly,_ Ben realized from his tone. “I’ve been wanting to do this for ages; I’m rather fond of your nose.” Ben kept his eyes closed but couldn’t help his small smile. Hux chuckled, his warm breath fanning out and making Ben’s eyelashes flutter. “That wasn’t an answer you were expecting, was it?” 

Ben shook his head, bringing his hands up to either side of Hux’s neck and tracing the sharp edges of his jaw with his thumbs. “Not even close.” 

Hux hummed again (Ben was beginning to pick up on the different tones, how they conveyed both Hux’s mood and level of interest - this one Ben would call pleased). “I’m glad to have not met that particular expectation.” 

Ben bit his lip and opened his eyes. Hux was even more handsome this close, his skin dated with light freckles and pale, even in the low lighting of the showroom they still stood in. “Hux, I want to ask you something. Will you be honest with me?” 

Hux blinked and moved his hands up to rest in the crease of Ben’s elbows, his grip light. “Yes.” 

“I don’t know if this is too soon to ask, and I really don’t care if it is,” Ben paused to lick his lips. Hux’s eyes darted to watch the motion before flicking back to Ben’s eyes. “I want to keep spending time with you, and I’d like to know if you’re seeing anyone else right now, like this?” 

“No,” Hux answered immediately; something dark flashed across his face when he spoke next, voice lowering. “Are you?” 

Ben shook his head. “Shit, _no._ I can’t even look at anyone else. You’re all I’ve been thinking about since I walked into that bank months ago.” 

Hux’s expression relaxed, and Ben had to wonder - was that jealousy he had just seen? “Good,” he said curtly, tone satisfied. Shyly, he added: “I’ve been thinking about you much the same.” 

Ben’s heart pounded in his chest. “I want to be exclusive, Hux - just us, no one else. Do you want that?” 

An intensity burned in Hux’s eyes that only increased when Ben had finished speaking. Ben swallowed against a sudden dryness in his throat and tried to ignore the building heat flooding his abdomen. “I am a man who knows what he wants, and once I have it, I am not overly fond of sharing.” He paused. “You are most definitely what I want, Ben Solo.” 

Ben surged forward and closed the space between them, pressing his lips to Hux possessively himself - that was definitely a trait they shared. Hux kissed back with as much, if not more, fierceness; Ben groaned when Hux gripped his hair again while Ben dropped his hands to Hux’s waist. Together, they each pulled the other closer until there was no space between them, hips to chest slotted perfectly together. Oh, Ben felt he could kiss Hux until there was no strength left in his body. 

“Just me?” Ben whispered, pulling back for air. He felt lightheaded and giddy and so, _so_ happy. 

Hux chased after his lips, “Just you.” Ben grinned into the kiss Hux demanded. 

It was so hard for Ben to believe that a text in the middle of the night brought him here, to this very moment of his life, kissing a man that made him weak in the knees and so much better than he was before. Perhaps he would get Han something as a thank you gift, and finally introduce Hux to the actual account holder - and their unintended mastermind. 

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for stopping by to read this - I desperately want to know what you all thought, considering this is the first thing I've successfully finished writing in years. I hope this is the kick in the ass I need to finish my WIPs, which I wholly intend to do, as I have no other excuse other than...a lack of self-worth and drive, completely believing I was wasting my time on this because I'm absolute shit at it. I'm not asking for pity, but a hope that you all can help me get back my motivation. :)


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